Mysterious Mountain Man

“Yep,” Mel muttered. “You were right.”

Why is Jake coming down from his place in the mountains so soon after his last visit? she wondered.

She glanced at the coffee to make sure it would be ready when he arrived, then turned back and watched Jake’s progress along the highway.

Jake drove like he did everything else he ever put his mind to—with a skill and careless elegance that drew the eye. Easily in command of the machine he drove, Jake pulled into the graveled parking area and slowed to a stop in the empty lot.

Betty stood in the doorway and watched as he opened the truck door and unfolded his long length. He pulled his battered Stetson low over his forehead so that it touched the rim of his aviator sunglasses. He wore a sheepskin-lined denim jacket that fit snugly across his broad shoulders, then tapered to his lean waist. When he reached back into the truck for his keys, his tight jeans revealed the long, muscular legs and taut buttocks of a runner. Well-worn hiking boots covered his feet as he sauntered across the parking lot toward the café.

Not for the first time Betty thought about the number of women who’d wanted to lasso and tie down the man walking toward her. Despite her age, she could understand very well their reaction to him. He seemed to bristle with energy even when his movements appeared slow and measured. There was an aliveness about him that caught the eye. He was a fine specimen of the human male animal in the prime of life.

She admired him as much as she loved him. He’d accepted the cards life had dealt him and had played them with a fierceness and determination that had never folded regardless of the stakes. And yet, there was something about him that remained a mystery. Jake Taggart was a very private man. She’d learned years ago not to question him about his decisions and choices, even when she didn’t understand them. Jake never let anyone get too close to him.

Betty waited until she saw his rare smile flash like a brilliant light in his sun-darkened face before she spoke.

“What happened? Did you forget somethin’ when you were down here last time?”

Jake stepped up onto the slanted porch that ran the length of the building. She pushed the door open for him and he took it with one hand while he pulled off his sunshades with the other. His black eyes danced with mischief.

“I couldn’t handle another day without seeing you, sweetheart. You’re downright irresistible and you know it.”

“I heard that,” Mel yelled from the kitchen. “You’d better watch how you flirt with my wife, fella. If you ain’t careful, I’ll have ta take ya behind the buildin’ and whup some sense inta ya.”

Jake’s smile flashed once more. “You and what army, pal?”

Their familiar ritual of greeting complete, the three people burst into laughter while Jake gave Betty a hug that lifted her off her feet and made her squeal. Once he released her she went over to pour him a cup of fresh coffee.

Jake pulled off his Stetson and sank down on one of the stools alongside the counter. Betty filled a thick ceramic mug with steaming liquid and set it in front of him. Mel came out of the kitchen and put a cinnamon roll, glistening with fresh glaze, in front of Jake.

Jake glanced around the small café that had been a part of his childhood, as though seeing it for the first time. He became conscious of the scarred tables and chairs, the linoleum whose design had been scrubbed and wiped off years ago and the worn countertop.

A couple of oil paintings hung on the back wall, mute evidence that Betty and Mel would never turn away anyone who was hungry, even if the person was broke. Those two scenes of El Capitan—the majestic peak of the Guadalupe range—and the surrounding desert area were their payment for feeding a fellow who had camped out for a few weeks in the vicinity many years ago.

“So what are you doin’ here?” Betty asked once again.

Jake pretended dismay. “You mean I’ve already worn out my welcome for the winter?” He took a huge bite of the roll and almost groaned out loud from the savory sensation.

She punched his arm. “You know better ‘n that. But you came down here for supplies just a while ago. We didn’t expect to see you again anytime soon.”

He took a sip of coffee, giving himself time to think about his answer. “I guess the truth is that I’m getting a little bored with my own company these days.”

Mel called from the kitchen. “Betty, don’t forget to give him the card that fella left here a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, yeah. Good thing you reminded me. I’d done forgot all about that.” Betty walked over to the old-fashioned cash register and slid her fingers beneath it, coming out with a card. “Here you go. This guy showed up and was asking all kinds of questions about you...like where you lived and if you had a telephone or a fax or something. I told him that nobody knew where exactly you lived up in them mountains, not even the park rangers.”

She smiled when she said that, to remind Jake that she knew of his unauthorized use of land that had been claimed by the government as a national park area several years after he’d made his home there.

When he continued to eat the sweet roll without changing expression, she added, “He asked us to give you his card the next time we saw you.”

Jake took the card and immediately recognized the logo in the corner. The address was familiar as well. CPI Enterprises in Seattle, Washington. The name meant nothing to him; he’d never heard of a Woodrow Forrester. He must have been hired after Jake left the company. He placed the card on the counter and sipped his coffee without comment.

She waited for a few minutes, then said, “He insisted it was real important for him to get in touch with you as soon as possible. Like it was some kind of an emergency or something.”

Jake took another bite of the roll.

“Isn’t that the company where you used to work?”

He finished chewing and took a sip of coffee before replying. “That was a long time ago.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Not so long, surely. You’ve been back about a year, haven’t you?”

“Thirteen months.”

She nodded her head in agreement. “That ain’t so long a time, when you think about it. You worked for that company how long?”

“Almost five years...but that’s all ancient history now.”

She lifted one eyebrow and tapped the card with a pudgy forefinger. “Well, young man, I’d say your history’s tryin’ to catch up with you.”

He stuck the card in his shirt pocket. “Only if I let it.” He took another bite of the savory roll. He’d never found a pastry anywhere to compare with Mel’s cinnamon rolls. They were worth the long trek out of the mountains.

He glanced up and realized that Betty was still standing on the other side of the counter, watching him. As soon as she made eye contact with him, she spoke.

“Whadduya s’pose this guy wants?”

“Who knows?” He wished she’d drop the subject, but he knew Betty too well to think she would.

“So. You goin’ to call ‘im?”

That took no conscious thought at all. “Nope.”

She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter. “Just out of orneryness, I s’pose?”

Jake straightened, fighting to control his impatience. Betty knew nothing about his reasons for leaving the company. Only Brock Adams, the head of the company, knew. Once Jake left, he’d never discussed the matter with anyone.

Whoever this Forrester character represented in the company, Jake knew it wouldn’t be Brock Adams.

Betty was still eyeing him expectantly. “Look, Betty. It would be a waste of time for me to call this guy. I have nothing to say to him or anybody else in that company. I’m no longer a part of that world.” He glanced out the window and nodded toward the mountains. “That’s my life now. I’ve returned to my roots.”

“You know, Jake,” Betty said. “I suppose most people would probably believe ya, but I happen to remember how hard you worked all them years to get your education. I was there, remember? You took all kinds of part-time jobs, refusing to let me and Mel help ya, no matter how hard you had to struggle. You even got yourself some sports scholarships by playing your heart out, all so you could get the kind of education you needed to make it in the business world. I’m afraid you ain’t going to convince me that all that effort you went to meant nothing to you. I don’t care what you say.”

He supposed she had a point. Maybe he needed to look at things from a different perspective now that he’d had some time to himself. CPI Enterprises wasn’t the only company in the world, even if he’d spent his years there being groomed to succeed Brock Adams, thinking the company would be his life.

At the time he’d left, all he’d wanted was to leave the business world behind. He’d returned to the Guadalupes in search of some kind of inner peace, a way to live with the choices he’d made.

He’d ignored the park rangers and their petty governmental rules that said he could no longer have a home in the national park area. He’d actually made a game of circumventing them while he turned the shack he’d built up there as a kid into a habitable home.

Eventually he’d formed an uneasy but peaceful coexistence with them. He ignored them and they left him alone.